


backed up

by azureforest



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Consent, Fade to Black, M/M, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8564746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureforest/pseuds/azureforest
Summary: the wall at his back is solid, but he feels like he'll fall through any moment now, fall onto plush covers of bliss.don't stop, his eyes plead, his breaths whisper, though his lips betray nothing.(fill for the fe kink meme on tumblr. prompt: edward/leonardo, up against a wall.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> edit: holy shit i actually edited this. fixed word choice, fluidity, and sentence length. google how to delete yourself
> 
> "i wont write any nsfw fills for the kink meme", i said, whilst filling out this godforsaken prompt. lies down. laughs weakly. im a goddamn liar.
> 
> this was. writing practice actually. i wanted to see how much poeticness i had to mash into really bad kiss scenes to make em semi-presentable without going into purple prose territory. ive never kissed anyone in my life. i wrote maybe two kiss scenes in total that were longer than a sentence and a half. also im very mortified at myself actually. 1.2k words. over a thousand words of vanilla-ass, headcanon-stuffed, self-indulgent poetic-y garbage. god.
> 
> uh, um, all that aside, please enjoy, and as always, feedback in any form is greatly appreciated!

They steal away from the still-busy tavern, up the stairs of the inn- The space downstairs is still so lively, so filled with energy that no one will notice if two boys retreat to their rooms ahead of time- It’s already far past a curfew their parents may have enforced on them, had their situation been more normal, so the others won’t think of their disappearance as too odd, right?

So they think, between the warmth of their intertwined hands, as they hush upwards, boots making almost no sound against the wooden planks. Leonardo has never been one for parties, anyways, and Edward can never sit still in one place for long. The door falls closed behind them and their mischievous snickers, falls closed between them and the rest, encasing them in their own bubble as Edward pushes the taller up against the wall and Leonardo tilts his head to meet him halfway.

He doesn’t taste alcohol on the brunet’s lips, mainly because there is no alcohol to taste. The sweet tang of apple cider still coats his teeth and tongue, the half-cup of wine he’s had still burns dimly in the back of his throat, but grey and blue eyes alike shine as clear as a summer lake and a cold winter sky, stars sparkling in the depths before hiding away behind closing eyelids. Their judgment is sound, each action controlled, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Though, perhaps it’s a bit awkward, with Edward’s chapped lips that may split at moment’s notice that Leonardo immediately tuts at, Leonardo’s hands that hover and move lightly over the other boy’s sides and shoulders, ever uncertain and silently asking for permission still, but they sink back into a rhythm they’re not fully familiar with yet, letting instinct whisper sweetly into their ears. Teeth show in smiles and more snickers as they pull back for air and uncertain laughter, low confessions and reconfessions making their cheeks burn in both embarrassment and delight, before they dive back in again, less hesitant, more certain, _hungrier_ than before. Pale hands tug at short brown locks, closer, closer, _give me more_ , as the trueblade complies eagerly for a moment, before pulling away with a wicked grin and fingers tugging at the neck of Leonardo's turtleneck in a way that makes the warmth in the marksman’s face flare up all over again.

It's too warm, almost, but then again, they wouldn’t have _this_ any other way, either. Leonardo shifts, moves his hands to Edward’s shoulders once more, carefully avoiding his chest until he gives consent. Edward’s grin softens into something less primal, more gentle in reply to the marksman’s own hesitation.

“You okay?” Leonardo sees him ask, but the pounding of his heart is too loud for him to tell whether or not he actually said it- But he still gives a reply and closes his eyes, hums.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

"Well," Edward says, leaning in so his breath ghosts past the other's ear- "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

Leonardo exhales, somewhere between a shaky breath and a sigh of relief- Then tilts his head back, exposing his neck, a wordless invitation, a smile dancing on his own bruised lips. The brunet accepts, calloused hands tangling in blond strands, the tip of his nose only brushing the pale skin at first, pulling a little protest of ‘ _that tickles_ ’ from his partner. Edward quips back an amused apology, presses his mouth to the side of Leonardo’s neck in an open-mouthed kiss, pulls down the black fabric in his way, sucking gently. Lips curl upwards at the sigh that leaves the blond’s lungs, shuddering and fluttering like the pulse under his skin, a pulse Edward can feel like his own.

The bite’ll leave a mark, most definitely, but that’s what the turtleneck is there for. Edward kisses the red welt, almost as if apologising, before moving on, lips and tongue ghosting over a pulse point, feeling the vibrations of a groan.

And for a moment, he pauses, rests his head against Leonardo’s collarbone and inhales deeply, as if trying to memorize the scent of paper and rain and tree bark, engraving it into the nooks and crannies of his mind. Mumbles broken, half-correct verses from a play they had read together years ago, another confession in its own right.

Fingers travel downwards, play with the hem of the black shirt, before slipping underneath, skimming up the blond’s sides. The archer lets out a breathy laugh in reply, swatting Edward’s hands away, who abandons the attempt to stick cold hands up Leonardo’s shirt and leans in to nip at his earlobe, resumes trailing kisses down his neck until he meets fabric again and lets out a low whine.

“Take it off already.” Edward complains, tugging at the shirt again, pressing a knee between the blond's legs. Leonardo chokes back a gasp, face steadily growing redder as he resists any further movement, hands leaving their spot at the back of the brunet’s neck, instead grasping for a hold on the wall behind him. The brunet marvels at his restraint, just a little, wishes for a moment for the blond to just lose it and roll his hips against him, submit to the advance for once. He doesn't.

“B-be patient.” Leonardo replies instead, voice shaking and slightly muffled, already pulling the article of clothing over his head to discard it, mussing up his hair in the process. Strands fall out of its already messy half-ponytail to frame his face. The trueblade disregards the reprimand easily because he’s anything but, leaning forwards again for another kiss as soon as the shirt leaves the other’s hands to be shucked into some other part of the room, nipping and humming, letting his hands roam over pale and scarred skin, tracing ribs without looking at them, remembering where the thin, faded lines of mended flesh had come from.

The taller shudders, again, but not from the cold- His flush had spread from his face to his shoulders, too, blood flowing through his veins like wildfire, staining the surface pink with warmth, each and every one of Edward's touches searing hot and painfully intimate, something to melt for, to melt into. Like a flame.

And if Edward is fire, then he is ice, solid, clear and infallible in the cold, but melting as he should at the proximity to the brunet’s warmth alone- Never mind the knee still causing a fair amount of friction between them. And admittedly, the brunet is enjoying Leonardo’s undoing far more than either of them would like to admit- But at least both of them are aware of the fact. Painfully so, in Leonardo's case.

He has to do something, the marksman then decides, hands fumbling for the first few buttons on Edward’s shirt as he nips back, tasting blood from Edward’s chapped lips, muffling a startled yelp, fingers flitting over collarbones and the dip in between in silent admiration, over paler lines on darker skin, not daring to touch further than the line of more fabric wrapped snugly around his chest until the brunet urges him to, pressing his body even closer to the blond so no space remains. They meld together like two halves of a whole, twin groans falling from their throats. The brunet’s breath hitches as he pulls away for just a moment, something in those lidded grey eyes shifting like a tempest on the horizon, over a vast sea, wild and free, a challenge and an omen at the same time, challenging the frigid but thawing oceans before him, unimaginably deep, reflecting the light off ever-shifting surfaces of rolling waves and unseen currents.

Something tips and falls like shackles unlocked, and Leonardo straddles him, back pushing against the wall and arms around the other’s shoulders, clinging on as if for dear life- He drowns in those eyes, the stormy sky, just as Edward drowns in deep-sea blue, and they both go under in the silent litany of gasps, moans and “ _I love you_ "s that fill the night.


End file.
